


How to Train Your Sentinel

by Caesara



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), The Sentinel (TV), White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Crossover, FBI Mumbo Jumbo, Gen, Guide Hotchner, Guide Peter Burke, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sentinel Neal Caffrey, Sentinel Spencer Reid, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesara/pseuds/Caesara
Summary: The Sentinel/Guide White Collar/Criminal Minds crossover no one asked for in which Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke attend the FBI’s annual Sentinel-Guide Training at Quantico. A oneshot exploring their time at the training facility together.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	How to Train Your Sentinel

Peter grabbed his coffee from the stand and turned with Neal to head back to the office. They had spent the morning interviewing the security staff at the Nueu Galerie, which had been robbed the night before. Whoever it was—Neal promised it wasn’t him—had made off with a series of 3 paintings worth one and a half million dollars.

Taking a sip of the scalding brew, Peter thought about the details of the case again, wondering how a single person could snatch all 3 paintings in such a small window of time, with a full security staff on duty.

“You think it was a team or a lone guy? How would you do it?” Peter asked.

Neal’s lip curled and he turned his head from Peter. 

“Neal?”

The man let out a sharp breath and shook his head. Then, after a few seconds, he straightened up again, and flashed a soft grin. “I’m okay. Coffee’s strong, though.”

“It is. You good? Where’s your smell?”

Neal tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket and sighed. 

“4, maybe 5.”

Peter frowned. He grabbed lightly at Neal’s arm, drawing them both to a stop on the outside of the sidewalk, as dozens of people in spring business wear bustled by.  
“Turn it down Caffrey, before you get overwhelmed out here. New York’s streets aren’t exactly a Sentinel-friendly place.”

Neal didn’t argue. He took a few seconds, guided by the man’s touch on his arm, to reign in his senses that had been on high alert during the questioning, as he had listened for changes in the guards’ heartbeats and sniffed about their offices for any trace of whoever had stolen the art. After a moment, he let out a deep sigh, one that made Peter know he was in a balanced place again.

“Thanks, I guess I will still spiking from earlier.”

Squaring up to face him with a serious look, Peter asked, “Do you need the day? Because if you do—”

“Stop,” Neal said, holding up his hands. “I’m fine Peter. I know you’ve been worried since Kate and the plane but I’m fine. Really.”

He put on one of those smiles that would have convinced just about anyone but his Guide. The man gave Neal a long, calculating look but agreed to finish up work back at the office. 

“We should probably wrap this up soon, anyway,” Peter said as they continued on. “In two weeks, we need to be at Quantico for our annual Sentinel-Guide training. Gotta get you all patched up.”

“Me? They’ll probably spend the sessions telling you about the finer points of Guiding. The finesse, the art.”

“All right, well we’ll see who’s the problem here, won’t we?” Peter asked, sipping his coffee again. “We’ll have a whole week with nothing else to do.”

****

Usually JJ took the spot on the longest seat on the plane and curled up under a blanket, but tonight it was Spencer. Hotch eyed him carefully from across the way in his seat, where he didn’t bother to hide his intense gaze at the sentinel.

After such a rough case, Morgan, Emily, and JJ were asleep. Rossi read a book by a criminal anthropologist, which he said was inspiring ideas for his next book; and Spencer hovered near sleep but his eyes flew open every few minutes or so. Finally, Hotch took a few steps over to Reid, where he kneeled in front of him.

“Spencer—”

“I’m okay, Hotch.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

“I am. You know statistically, most Sentinels fire their guns five times less than all other members of the FBI. We’re usually used for preliminary analysis in fieldwork, not the part where people start shooting.” 

“I know. You didn’t use your gun today though, did you? I’m glad.”

“Yeah.” Spencer swallowed hard. “I thought—I thought I would be able to stop him, but his daughter she—she wanted him to—and I couldn’t sense by his heartbeat that he was going to. It just happened so fast—

“Reid, you did everything you could.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment.

“You usually have some ringing after being so near a gunshot. How’s your hearing?” When the young man took a few beats, Hotch prompted, “Reid?”

“I could use some help tuning it. It’s just—the engine sounds…” he trailed off. Instead of explaining, he pushed faintly on their bond to allow a twinge of his anxiety through to his guide.

Hotch gave him a look of understanding, and cupped Spencer’s face, who blew out a lungful of air and sunk deeper into the uncomfortable plane seat.

“Breathe,” Hotch said, barely opening his mouth. Together, they worked to dull Spencer’s senses so that he would reach a sense of equilibrium, as much as was possible in the stale air and cramped quarters of a running plane.

“Thank you,” Spencer murmured, when he finally felt grounded.

Hotch’s hand lingered for a moment more before he let go and told Spencer to get some rest if he could. The case had been a hard one, and truthfully, they had been running nonstop for weeks, with cases in Arizona, Maine, Minnesota, and Washington. They had been crisis-crossing the country for weeks, and he knew they needed a break soon—if not now.

Hotch had put a request in for the entire team to have a paid week’s break when he and Spencer went to their annual Sentinel-Guide training in two weeks. Now he wondered if the team would make it that long.

“What on your mind?” Rossi asked, when Hotch took seat across from him.

Hotch glanced at his sleeping team members.

“Just thinking it’s been a long couple of weeks.”

“It’s been a long year,” Rossi said. “Especially for all you. Your suspension. Gideon leaving. My coming in.”

“I know.”

“We’ve had some tough cases lately.”

Hotch grimaced, his mind flashing back to finding Reid in the bathroom with the man blown to bits against the tile. The Sentinel had been zoned out, overwhelmed by the unexpected sound of the gunshot in such close proximity, the smell of blood, the feel of the gunshot reverberating through his body. Hotch had brought him back to himself slowly, away from the prying eyes of the local police.

“That Sentinel-Guide refresher should be a good reset for the kid,” Rossi said, looking to where Reid was laid across the seats.

“I’ve asked Strauss for the team to have the week off. There’s no use in you all joining another unit or working a half capacity.”

Rossi took a drink and flashed a grin, “You don’t think we could do it?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘we’ now?” Hotch asked with a stiff smile.

“I’m starting to get a hang of this team stuff. Your walking computer over there is extra useful with his spidey senses.” After a moment, of silence, he added, “You two are good together. I came back to a much healthier man than I left all those years ago.”

“Did you?” Hotch asked at the unexpected compliment.

“Yes, and the section chief this team needs.” 

****  
Drs. Scarpellini and Ono introduced themselves as the people facilitating the week’s sentinel-guide training. Dr. Scarpellini, a tall, dark woman with short locs and round glasses, looked both scholarly and ready to jump into the field at a moment’s notice. Her guide, Dr. Ono had a PsyD to match to match her doctorate in psychology. Together, they had written the book on sentinel-guide psychology in law enforcement. Spencer had read it—multiple times.

The groups sat in a jagged semi-circle in a Sentinel-friendly room in the training facility. It was soundproof and a soundless purification system kept the air clean and unscented. The lights were also dim, but the white walls and light furniture helped keep the room feeling light.

“Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves?” Dr. Ono suggested. “Since we’ll be spending so much time together this week. I can start. My name is Miles. I use he/they pronouns, and I spent 20 years with the FBI Intelligence Branch, mostly based in D.C. I’ve had the pleasure,” he grabbed his partner’s hand, “to be Celeste’s Guide for 10 years now.”

“And I’m Celeste. My pronouns are she/her, and I worked with Miles in D.C. for a good chunk of time before we co-founded this subdivision to better tend to the needs of Sentinels and Guides in the Bureau and in law enforcement more broadly. I know that we’ve worked with Section Chief Hotchner and Dr. Reid before, but other folks are new, so why don’t we go around and get to know each other?”

At the end of the semi-circle a man a bit older than Peter introduced himself as Special Agent Henry Gribbs who worked in the FBI’s counterintelligence division of the National Security Branch in D.C. He then introduced the young-ish sentinel next to him as a Peter Hawkins.

“Two Peters. Let’s hope you’re the good one,” Neal murmured to his partner, knowing that every Sentinel in the room could hear him. Peter pursed his lips but didn’t reply.

“Thank you for those introductions, Agent Gribbs. We do like to allow people to speak for themselves in this space, so in the future, if Agent Hawkins could speak for himself, that would be appreciated,” Dr. Ono said, pushing back his dark hair. “Is there anything you wanted to add to that introduction, Agent Hawkins?” 

The young man declined.

It looked like they were going around the circle, so Peter straightened up and introduced himself.

“I’m Special Agent Peter Burke. I work in the New York White Collar field office. I’ve been on this job a decade and some change, and I’ve been working with Neal for a little over a year now. This is our first check-in training together.” 

After a pause, Neal jumped in, “What he means to say is that we’ve been working together a bit longer than that. I mean before I became his consultant, we did meet a few times,” the younger man said. And looking around the room with a slight smirk.

“Oh, so you’re counting the years before I arrested you?” the agent asked with an exasperated look.

“I think they’re worth mentioning. These people want to know about our history. I’m just giving a bit of backstory. It all started when I popped up Peter’s radar for an allegedly forged Raphael. You see Peter—”

“That was not the beginning,” Peter cut in.

“Well, I mean it was the first—”

“What about those corporate bonds in 2010?”

The young man’s mouth snapped shut and he looked up in genuine surprise before schooling his face into a neutral expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said lightly.

Spencer suppressed a smile, as he heard the man’s heartbeat quicken.

“Why don’t you finish introducing yourself to the group here?” Peters asked, smugly.

“Right, yes, as I was saying my name is Neal Caffrey, and I am Peter’s consultant.”

“Criminal consultant—”

“Criminal consultant who once used his powers for bad but now,” he flashed a smile, “I use them for good.”

After a pause, Dr. Ono thanked them for their introductions before all eyes fell on Aaron. He was dressed similarly to Peter in a well-worn but functional suit.  
“I am Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner. I work in the behavioral analysis unit in Quantico, but our work is mostly on the road, so we travel quite a bit.”

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” the younger man said next to him. “Well, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid who happens to be a doctor. Not like a medical doctor. I can’t stand the smell of blood. Uh—I’m a Sentinel. You could probably tell that. And Aaron is my partner.” He paused as if he were finished before jumping back in. “I mean he’s my partner because I’m a field agent, but he’s also my partner, if you know what I mean. I hope that was okay to say, was that okay?”

Aaron’s serious face broke into a soft smile. He nodded.

“I mean our section chief allows it and technically there’s no rules against it in the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime or the larger FBI. Actually, there’s extensive verbiage in the NCAVC handbook about how Guides and Sentinels can only—”

“Reid,” Hotch said, barely above a whisper.

“Right. I’ll just, uh, stop there.” Spencer gave a curt nod and a smile to the room, as Aaron reached for his hand.

After introductions, Dr. Ono let them know that they’d be doing exploratory activities to get a sense of where they were connecting as pairs and where they could work to improve during the week.

****

At break, Neal told Peter he needed a minute and wandered off into the halls by himself after a stern warning to “stay out of trouble.”

“It’s Henry, right?” Peter asked the man who appeared beside him at the small table with coffee and refreshments.

“Yep. You’re Peter?” 

“Yep.”

“Coffee?”

Peter declined. “Neal’s been a bit sensitive to it lately. I’m cutting back.”

Agent Gribbs gave him a strange look and a harsh chuckle. “You’re a better man than me.” He grabbed his coffee and stalked back toward the training room.

Peter texted El an update and then went to take a few breaths outside. The facility was located as far away from the training courses and firing ranges as possible. On the far east side of the Quantico training grounds, it was surrounded mostly by a well-cropped landscape, and a few low-trafficked administrative buildings. The facility was large, with Sentinel-friendly rooms throughout, including the ones they would be staying in for the next few days.

After a few minutes, Peter went in search of Neal, hoping he hadn’t gone too far. He found the man chatting up the other Sentinel, Agent Hawkins, who looked skittish and pale.

“Well, you know he pretends to be a hard ass, but he’s good for me. What about you?” he heard Neal ask as he approached.

The other Sentinel saw Peter coming and ducked out of the question, saying that he should go find his Guide, before quickly disappearing down the hall.

When he was pretty sure the Sentinel was out of earshot, Peter muttered, “I get the sense he’s not doing too well with his partner.”

“You think?” Neal asked. “That man sounds—” he shook his head. “I don’t know, Peter. I don’t think they’re a match made in heaven.”

“Oh, so you think we are?” Peter asked with a smirk.

“You wish,” Neal said, flipping his fedora and placing it back on his perfectly styled hair. 

Peter looked at him, as if calculating his body language was a difficult equation.

“I’m serious, are you doing okay? This morning session wasn’t easy.”

“It was all right,” Neal said.

“It was challenging.”

“All right it was challenging, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I trust you, Peter. We’re in a good place.”

He said it with such sincerity, Peter believed him before he could doubt himself. Patting Neal on the shoulder, he led them both back into the room for their next session on auditory strength and stimulation.

****  
That night, Spencer lay naked on the bed on his stomach and listened to Aaron shower, then brush his teeth. After puttering around a bit in his towel, he sat on the edge of the bed to put on a scentless lotion and the silk pajamas that didn’t irritate Spencer’s skin.

He patted the younger man’s calf.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, softly.

“Okay,” Spencer said. “Hot. Cold. Itchy. Tired.”

“Do you want to run through the bonding exercise now or in the morning?” 

Spencer sighed, “I just want to snuggle.”

“I don’t see why we can’t do both. If you fall asleep in the middle, we can finish up before our first session tomorrow.”

Hotch turned off the lights and climbed in bed, carefully spooning Spencer. They instinctively, matched their breaths, breathing deeply to slow down their heartbeats and increase their focus. Placing his hand on Reid’s chest, he directed the Sentinel’s senses with the soft litany he had learned from Doctor Ono and Scarpellini that day.

“Keeping your other senses dampened,” he whispered, “open up your sense of touch just wide enough to experience my presence. How does it feel to be held like this? Let that feeling sink into the bond…”

****

The next day, the Sentinels and Guides had separate sessions. Dr. Ono led the Guides in some Sentinel-Guide psychology (which Peter liked to call “How to Train Your Sentinel”), while Dr. Scarpellini led Spencer, Neal, and Agent Hawkins into a sensory deprivation room. After, she led the Sentinels into a sensory labyrinth that would test the strength of their senses.

The labyrinth was in an expansive, vaulted room that took up most of the west side of the facility. It had, along with a small artificial creek, some live trees and greenery. Along the path and throughout the room was real evidence from previous FBI cases: a glove tossed over a tree limb, counterfeit bills scattered about, even a motorcycle parked at the far end of the room, surrounded by a pile of weapons.

They were to walk through the labyrinth identify and memorize as much sense evidence as possible, and then debrief with their Guides who had the files for the cases.

They were made to stay in the room an hour, taking in the various pieces of evidence, along with the extra scents, sounds, and smells that had been placed as decoys.  
It was a difficult task for a Sentinel, with no prior context, and with no Guide. Usually, on a case, a Guide would help a Sentinel use their senses strategically and selectively. On their own, Sentinels often found it difficult to control which senses came to the forefront and to dial them back when necessary.

Neal needed to stop halfway through to do some slow meditative breathing, and not long after, Spencer was found trying to catch his breath in a small corner in what little solitude he could find. The other man, Sentinel-Peter looked near frantic the entire time.

When the hour was up, the three men practically ran out of the room, where Dr. Ono and Dr. Scarpellini led them each to a room in which their Guides waited.  
Neal slid down against the back of the door as soon as he was in it, as a concerned Peter rose from his seat.

“Breathe,” Peter said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and crouching down to see his face. He was radiating heat and trembling slightly.

“Okay, okay the Harley definitely had a trace of a solvent on it and I think it’s from the counterfeit bonds.”

“Neal—”

“It was acetone. No, it was ethyl acetate. I’m not sure, I’ll have to—”

“Neal. Stop. Listen to me. You’re not going to be any good in this state. Let’s get your senses dialed back and we can see what you picked up in there.”

“Okay,” Neal said, letting out a shaky breath. He wrapped his hands around Peter’s forearms, a little tighter than usual and let the Guide help him regain his balance.

Spencer was in a similar, fragile state by the time he reached Hotchner. The man stopped his nervous pacing at once, when Spencer practically fell through the door. He could tell the man was not very far from zoning out. Thirty minutes longer in there, and Spencer would likely have been completely unresponsive. He gave Spencer a grounding kiss and talked Spencer down, guiding his senses back to a more dampened state.

After relaying what evidence they could remember to their Guides, their Guides helped them to put the pieces together based on the files they had received. They took a short break, and everyone was to regroup to review the cases and talk through potential strategies for going over evidence in sensory-heavy places.

Except everyone didn’t regroup. Dr. Scarpellini sat in the front of the circle alone, and Agent Hawkins and his Guide Gribbs were missing.

“To be transparent, Dr. Ono is assisting Agents Hawkins and Gribbs with their cool down time,” Dr. Scarpellini said. “Agent Hawkins experienced a bit of a zone out in the labyrinth. I’m sure you can attest to the difficulty.”

Neal nodded, and Spencer added that he, himself, had zoned out his first time through the labyrinth during his first training with Hotch.

The agents spent the next hour and a half talking through their strategies and coming up with solutions. Spencer was able to add his perspective, from the many (many) books he had read on the topic. And Neal was more than happy to contribute the knowledge he had learned from his more illicit affairs.

****

They broke for an early dinner soon after, giving everyone time to decompress after a stressful lineup of events. The group of men decided to eat dinner together in a quieter part of the east side of the Quantico grounds. The small café had a cozy atmosphere and a blessedly small amount of people eating in. So, when they saw Agent Hawkins come through the door, they immediately invited him to sit.

“Tough exercise today,” Neal said, with a supportive smile. “It got to all of us.”

Agent Hawkins rubbed at his neck. “Well, it certainly got to me.”

The waitress took his order, and their conversation picked back up.

“You work in Counterintelligence in D.C., right?” Peter asked.

“Oh yes, just got transferred last year. Before that I was in the Atlanta office.”

“Ah, we’ve been at that office a few times,” Spencer said. “One was for a serial murderer who kidnapped and tortured men, which is actually an unusual profile. Only about 30% of serial killers target men alone.”

“Maybe not over dinner,” Hotch suggested lightly.

Spencer nodded, “Right, I forget most everyone’s work isn’t as gruesome as ours.”

“You should spend some time in White Collar,” Neal said. “Not as many murders, but the expensive art and fantastic views make up for it. Don't forget the beautiful people.”

“What’s it like in counterintelligence?” Peter asked the other Sentinel.

“Oh, it’s, it’s okay. A lot of monitoring chatter and undercover work for me.”

“That can’t be easy,” Hotch said.

“Oh, it’s uh—it’s not.” The man gave a nervous chuckle. “I don’t think I’m very good at it. Well, I’m okay, but it’s a high-pressure job.”

Neal gave Peter a significant look and could have sworn Spencer was doing the same to Hotchner.

“I, uh, well I don’t want to pry, but I wondered how are things going along with you and Agent Gribbs, is it? You haven’t been together for long,” Peter said.

The Sentinels at the table heard the slight uptick in the young man’s heartbeat.

“We uh, got paired together when I moved to the D.C. office. It’s been…a long year.”

“As section chief, I like to make sure all of my team are as comfortable as possible. I know it’s difficult to make those transitions at times,” Hotch said. Neal got the sense that he was a very diplomatic figure in his office.

“Yeah, well. He was the only un-bonded Guide at the office, so we’re making it work. It’s just—it’s just sometimes it’s hard to know, to know what he wants. I’m sure you get that, too.”

Neal threw a look at Peter.

“Sometimes, but Peter and I have a way of talking that builds a level of trust. It makes it easier to figure out what we both want.”

“Trust is definitely an important part of the sentinel-guide relationship. It’s actually a cornerstone, according to the handbook. Hotch is my romantic partner too, but as a partner, he makes sure that we have clear expectations for each other. It makes the process easier.” He grabbed Hotch’s hand.

Agent Hawkins looked around the table and shook his head.

“Yeah, well maybe Agent Gribbs and I will get to that point, too.” He swallowed hard. His food hadn’t arrived, but he got up quickly anyway and dug through his pocket to throw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. 

“I think I need to go. He’s probably wondering why I’m not back yet. But, uh, thanks for the talk. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

****

The next few days of training went a bit like the first, but none of the activities were as intense as the sensory labyrinth. In pairs, they did some self-evaluation with the two leaders, and they spoke with two other retired Sentinel-Guide pairs about their experiences. One session was about Sentinel-Guide policy in the FBI, and they noted ways that the FBI could change policy to better accommodate them. They also spoke to a panel of interested FBI leadership about their experiences, who would use the information to advocate on their behalf in their respective departments.

Their last session was a review of sorts, that involved self-reflection and goal setting. Toward the end, on one of their breaks, Spencer and Neal broke off to speak with Agent Hawkins, as his Guide took a smoke break out of the back of the building.

“Are you all sure about this?”

“We’re positive,” Neal said in the voice he often used on marks. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. I trust Peter with my life.”

“And I trust Hotch, you know he’s one of the most decorated unit chiefs in our field. I’m sure that together he and Agent Burke can make a good case on your behalf,” Spencer said.

“You shouldn’t have to be with this guy, Peter, he’s not worth it,” Neal said with a reassuring pat.

They took a walk around half of the building to calm the young agent down and to stretch their legs. When they got back to the building, Dr. Scarpellini and Dr. Ono ushered Agent Hawkins into a room to talk about what they had just heard.

A few minutes later, Neal and Peter were back in their seats, flipping through the policy they had reviewed earlier.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Neal asked Peter.

“Yeah, they agreed that he needs a new Guide, so the bureau will be finding him a new one ASAP. In the meantime, I believe Agent Gribbs will likely face disciplinary action. He’s been on his best behavior here, so I can’t imagine what it’s been like on a day to day basis with him.”

Agent Hotchner walked over to the two with Spencer in tow.

“We’d like to thank you for your partnership.” He shook both of their hands. “I was assured by Drs. Ono and Scarpellini that we’ll be kept in the loop about how things go with Agent Hawkins,” Hotch said. “We hate to run out before the end, but we’ve got an urgent case that my team has been called to.”

“Three women have been killed in the last 3 days, which is a fast rate considering the time the killer takes with the bodies. We’re off to New Mexico as soon as the plane is ready,” Spencer said.

“Oh, well that sounds riveting, doesn’t it Neal?” Peter asked. Neal made a face. “It was good to meet you both. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

“And before I leave, I was told to give this to Neal,” Spencer said, holding out an intricately folded piece of yellow paper in his hand.

“From who?” Neal and Peter asked at the same time, Peter more demanding and Neal more curious.

“I don’t know, a woman, about my height with blonde hair. She smelled like a mix of Dior perfume and the kind of scent you’d get in an old museum. I assumed you knew her.”

Peter gave Neal a significant look and snatched the origami flower from Neal’s hand.

“Oh, I’m sure he knows her.”

Hotch and Spencer were off as soon as they packed their bags. As Neal and Peter settled back into their chairs, Peter let Neal know that he wouldn’t rest until he knew what it meant.

“Aren’t we learning about trust here. Don’t you trust me?” Neal asked.

“Nope, not when there are secret messages involved.”

“This could just be a flower. Who says it’s a message? Does everything have to be such a secret with you?”

“I don’t know, Neal, does it?”

Neal shrugged. “You’re the Guide. You’re supposed to know me better than I know myself. I guess you’ll have to find out.”


End file.
